Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Combat , by - Sunz Of Man. Song from the album Elements, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хопRelease date: 29.08.2016
Record label: Echo International
Song language: English
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Combat , by - Sunz Of Man. Song from the album Elements, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хопCombat |
| What’s up man? |
| Aight |
| Yo Priest what’s up with that track man? |
| Let me represent that shit for dolo man, fuck that |
| Yo fuck that man, word is bond |
| I’m reckin on this mike man, fuck that kid |
| What up |
| I’mma transport inside the mind that ya got |
| And I’mma transport to a braisol and drop to begin |
| To spread ya Aloe head gel |
| Every tape has an inmate and blow up ya brain cells |
| All ya reactions is trapped in my time warp |
| And smoke 'em, ya get leg broken |
| Home, choken by roast a deli slogans |
| To once, quick to get guns I blow ya open |
| I’m from the L’s of the Murderville |
| Where we possess to kill, and strangle the demons, cuz schemin on skills |
| My styles is disguised, nigga ply ya naked eye |
| I twist minds, insert through ya disc drives |
| To reprogram ya dead computer, they ain’t no future |
| When ya beein in a killin zone cross shooter |
| Hype is not for winners it’s for sinners that are losers |
| Guess I spell profanity, on all mics that’ll handle me |
| Then I brain damage, leave ya deaf, dumb and stranded |
| Abandon all ya missed, understand it understands |
| See it’s hectic, for niggas that quenchin |
| So they get wetted, with techs in their hands, hoes in they head |
| Ran on my land, ya kind digest raw stress |
| When all ya thoughts up gots to pay tape, I’m x rated |
| And love to kick that I made it |
| Religion is racism, and I ate this rhythem |
| Oh shit, time to execute that new manuever |
| Cuz I feel this shit will be very unexpected |
| My mind a worse, weapon, murderin all cyphers and sessions |
| I love my moms, cuz havin her gone was a blessin |
| And they know until I stop, not be ready to I fuck it |
| Chop ya head, style, I’m the ripper |
| The mentally ill individual, growin up, |
| thinkin like, hangin with criminals |
| I’m on a Ram-Page and plus I’m lyrical, miracles |
| We make niggas dig up they graves, like the Aztecs with AIDS |
| All hell pays when ya livin in my Horror Days, in my Horror Days |
| Verbally surprising, mind magnetizin |
| Niggas is hypnotized from the rhymes I’m vocalizin |
| Paragraphs, thoughts, thoughts from distorture |
| I dare, from L’s, to when they dwell to my ears fell out |
| I get buddha black when I reless the stress |
| Thoughts that I address, niggas can’t contest |
| Ya get rained on, this random in the flap with the brainstorm |
| Create that new shit while ya still singin the same songs |
| Get it straight, I paralize ya mind state with hate |
| Intense pain, ya brain get maintained to wait superparalysis |
| Allowing these brain cells with cow asarbavation |
| Of a situation that makes an analysis |
| Conclusion, bust might cause confusion cause of the words |
| How you like substitution, conclusion, have ya brain get brutalized |
| Sabotage ya mental, my rhymes ya can’t manage |
| Those that battle, I got that aight no with brain damage |
| Niggas step I guess suicidal intentions |
| Get throwed out the rain like a dame women extensions |
| I leave ya with ya mind in potention |
| That rhymes that I mention, |
| will blast you through a whole nother dimension |
| Your pores, tossed in the land of the lost |
| I keep it real, when it feels no remorse, those that cross |
| My path, will get blasted to the beginning |
| The bottom of the barrel, no tears to admit cuz ya |
| thoughts is crazy narrow |
| Nah, &lifly the death blow front |
| If you wan’t the chance to die, rap fanatic |
| A slave to the rhythem like an adict |
| Man slaughter, my solid flow is sorta automatic |
| When I lift up the spliff and I rip up a rhyme |
| For the fool who wanna flip, I gotta rip on the night |
| When whenever, I’m clever with the style that I shoot with |
| Full of funk, electryifing like ya execution |
| To give to the top, a rock, a droppet |
| I’m wicked outta here like I’m Mustafa forgot dat |
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